


Irrevocable

by Quasar



Series: Skew Lines [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasar/pseuds/Quasar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed like a harmless prank at first...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrevocable

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene for "Irresistible." Chronologically this should be the first part of the series, but it was written out of order and should probably be read out of order as well.

"So, tomorrow we release Lucius back into the wild," said John, sliding his tray onto the table.

Across from him, Rodney just grunted and took another bite of his food.

"Just in time, too. I think I'm finally getting over this cold. I can almost smell this . . . huh. Maybe I should have grabbed an MRE."

"S'okay, it's not bad," Rodney said through his next forkful.

"Some recommendation, coming from -- oh, hey, are you actually speaking to me again?"

Rodney gave him an eloquent glare.

"I don't get it. Seems like everyone's avoiding me lately."

"Gee, could it be they're, I don't know, embarrassed, maybe?"

"But that's just it. No one seems to be all that angry at Lucius -- I mean they're annoyed at him, sure, but not that much. Instead they're all hiding from me. It's like they blame the messenger or something."

"Well, if the messenger keeps making snide little remarks . . ."

"Oh, come on. You couldn't expect me to pass it up completely! I mean, handstands? And blue jello? And that hideous gourd thing?"

Another glare.

"Okay, maybe I've pushed it a little, but that still doesn't explain why everyone's willing to give Lucius a pass. Take you, for example --"

"Oh, please don't."

"I would think you'd be more angry and less embarrassed than anyone. They got tricked, but you were actually forced into it."

"Just because I saw it coming doesn't mean I want my behavior while under the influence -- an influence, as you point out, that was forced on me -- rubbed in my face at every turn."

"I haven't been that bad. Have I?"

"Handstands. Blue jello. Marmots and gourds, and --"

"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make anyone feel worse about it than they already do."

Rodney looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds, then huffed and turned to his some-berry pie. "Well. I don't know about anyone else, but I find it hard to be really angry at Lucius, since I understand the feeling."

"What feeling?"

"The urge to use any means to get people to like me. Since I can't seem to do it the normal way."

"What? Oh, come on, Rodney, people like you all right!"

"Of course. And they show it by threatening to shoot me when I make perfectly reasonable observations, and waving lemons in my face, and mocking me . . ."

"Now, wait a second --"

"In fact, maybe that explains why I took the embarrassment in stride. I'm so used to being humiliated in front of my peers. And sometimes _by_ my peers. At least this time my peers were also humiliated. Most of them, anyway."

"Rodney, you're reading too much into --"

"So I can see why someone would be tempted to take a magic potion so people would stop making fun of him and laughing at his advances and ignoring his contributions."

"It's totally different. You are nothing like Lucius."

"No? You've seen how bad I am around women."

"What? You're not -- I mean, sure, you trip over your tongue a little, but you're not actively obnoxious the way he was with Teyla!"

"You must not have been paying much attention when Samantha Carter was here. Sometimes I actually lie awake at night thinking --"

John made a sour face. "Yes, Rodney, we've all heard about your fantasies."

"And now you're mocking me again."

"I wasn't --"

"Yes, you were. I was _going_ to say I lie awake wondering how I could have been so abysmally stupid as to say some of the things that came out of my mouth. It's no wonder she despises me, since I turn into a babbling idiot whenever she's around. A rudely babbling idiot."

"Rodney, you're blowing this way out of proportion. I didn't realize you were so oversensitive!"

Rodney just then nodded tightly with his lips pressed together as if he'd gotten an expected result from an experiment he knew was going to fail. "Oversensitive. Fine. If that's what you think, then maybe someone should --" He stilled, and his face changed.

"Someone should what, teach me a lesson?"

"Yes . . . what?" Rodney looked up in startlement. "I mean, no. I mean, I just thought of something -- a solution to a, a problem I've been working on. I should get back to the lab." He stood and picked up his tray, then paused, looking at John. "See you tomorrow, Colonel."

John looked around at the other tables full of people chatting with each other and carefully avoiding eye contact with him. Then he sighed and applied himself to his colorful stew.

Rodney might not be over his snit yet, but at least he wasn't avoiding John anymore. In fact, the next morning he actively sought John out at breakfast, sitting next to him and burbling on about the nature of spacetime or something. At first it was all just so much boring science babble to John, but as he started to listen more closely he realized that Rodney's theories were really kind of neat.

"That's really cool!" He breathed. "It makes so much sense now. I never really understood about the hyperspace-subspace thing; I thought it was like another plane of existence or something, you know, separate from normal space. But when you describe it like that, as folds in normal space with the ship just kinda skipping across them -- that fits together so much better. Rodney, you're brilliant!"

Rodney looked startled. "Well . . . yes. Yes, I am." Then he glanced around the room a little uncertainly, and John wondered what could be troubling him. "I think you'd better come with me, Colonel."

"Sure." They disposed of their empty trays and headed for the transporter. "Where are we going? Our gate time's not for a few hours yet."

Rodney's hand hovered for a moment over the map node nearest his lab, then moved. "I think we'd better go to my quarters. That would be safest."

"Hey, c'mon Rodney, you're safe anywhere with me. I wouldn't let you get hurt."

"Yes. Um, right."

Rodney's room looked as if a tornado had been through it. He pulled up in the doorway and then started to make excuses. "I, uh, I wasn't expecting anyone to see . . . and I've been so busy lately . . ."

John smiled. "That's okay, buddy. I know how hard you work. You could have asked for a hand if you were that swamped. I'd be glad to help out. In fact, let me --" He started picking up the clothes tossed on the floor, most of them near the bed.

Rodney seemed startled, then bemused. "Yes. Yes, that's a good idea, Colonel. You can clean my quarters for me. And when you're done, you can do my laundry."

"Great idea! I'll change your sheets, too."

"Be sure to separate out the whites so they don't get, uh . . ."

John laughed. "Rodney, we don't need to separate colors since the Ancient washing machines don't use water, you know that!" He looked up. "You didn't know that?"

"Well, I, uh . . ."

"I guess that's because you don't actually have any white clothes," John decided, adding a colorful pair of boxers to the laundry pile on the bed.

"Yes, that must be it."

John looked more closely at Rodney. "What's wrong? You don't look happy."

Sitting slump-shouldered in his desk chair, Rodney just looked away. "This isn't as much fun as I thought it would be."

"What isn't? Watching me clean your room?"

"Something like that."

"Well, we could do something else. What would you like to do, Rodney? Let's do something fun. You deserve a little fun."

"Yes, that's what I thought." Rodney sighed as if his cat had died.

That gave John an idea. "I know, we can play a game!"

Rodney looked moderately interested. "Like what? I have a few games on my laptop we could --"

"I'll be Batman and you can be Catwoman! Catman. Whatever."

Rodney blinked rapidly. "You want me to whip you and threaten you with a horrible death while your city falls victim to my evil schemes?"

"No, no! We'll pretend you drugged me and I have to do whatever you say." John ran a playful finger down Rodney's chest. "And you can be all sexy and I'll be powerless to resist your charms."

After a stunned moment, Rodney stood up so fast his chair rolled across the room. "Okay, that is _definitely_ not what I had in mind."

"Aw, come on, Rodney! It'll be fun." John leaned closer and tried to capture Rodney's lips with his. "You know you want to."

"I do? I mean, of course I don't!" Rodney squirmed away.

"Sure you do. We've been flirting with each other for years -- that's what all that banter is about, isn't it?"

Rodney's eyes were enormous. "F-f-flirting?"

John caught Rodney's face in his hands, blocking him back against the table edge. "Yeah, flirting. I see the way you look at me sometimes. Maybe I should be Catwoman. Would you like me in a cat outfit?"

"Bu-- Ca-- wha--"

John kissed him. Long and slow and deep. It was delicious. Rodney was frozen at first, but slowly started to melt into it. John was really getting going, sucking on Rodney's tongue and moaning into his mouth, when the hands clutching his arms suddenly tightened and pushed him away so hard he stumbled into the displaced chair.

"No!" Rodney sounded desperate and looked edible. "No! Bad idea. Very bad idea. I don't think that's a good game at all."

John was baffled and disappointed. "You're sure? But, I really thought . . . well. If you say so." He swallowed, ran a hand through his hair, and blinked hard.

"I mean, not that I don't -- well, actually, I really _don't_ \-- but I suppose I, well, that is --" Rodney coughed and looked around the room frantically, breathing hard. "Look, I just don't think there's enough time before our mission, that's all."

John checked his watch. "Two hours isn't enough to play Batman and Catwoman?" His spirits revived a little; Rodney must have some pretty wild ideas if they would take longer than a couple of hours. Maybe they could try again later tonight.

"No! I just mean, um, we should get my room clean first, right? And I thought of some new terms for a database search for space gates. And didn't Elizabeth want to talk to you before we take Lucius home, anyway?"

John sighed. "I guess." None of that sounded like much fun, unless they did it together. He untucked the sheets from the bed and wrapped them up around the pile of dirty clothes.

"Here, let me give you a hand with that." Rodney tossed a couple more shirts on top.

"Want to come down to the laundry with me?" John asked hopefully. "If there's no one else there, we could play with the machines a little. At the peak of the sonic cycle, they vibrate almost like --"

Rodney backed toward the door, babbling. "No! Uh, sorry, 'fraid not. I should really, um, get to the lab and start that search. See you in the Gateroom in a couple of hours, okay? Bye!"

And John was alone again, abandoned by Rodney -- again. He sighed and went back to work, consoling himself with the thought that Rodney would have more time once the search for space gates was finished. Maybe then they could have some real fun!

The Ancient washing machines were fast, energy-efficient, and good at removing bloodstains, but they couldn't handle large loads. It took a while to get through Rodney's backlog of laundry, and John barely had time to dump the clean stuff in Rodney's room before running to gear up for their mission. When they returned, he hurried back to put it all away. He was making the bed when the door whooshed open behind him.

He turned with a grin. "Hey, Rodn-- Oh. Carson, hi. Rodney's not here right now."

"I know that." Carson had a syringe in his hand and was looking unaccountably grim.

"You could check his lab if you're looking for him. Or he might be on his way here," John added hopefully.

"He's not the one I wanted. I need to give ye a shot, Colonel. Take off your jacket, please."

John frowned. "What for?"

"It's come to my attention that ye never got the inoculation against Lucius' potion. I apologize for the oversight, Colonel. I shouldn't have forgotten."

John shrugged. "I didn't need it because of my cold. And anyway, once you gave Lucius his own shot, he couldn't use the potion against us anymore, right? I thought the only reason you inoculated everyone else was to prevent the withdrawal symptoms."

"Aye, and to prevent a recurrence, which I should have thought of earlier."

"But Lucius is gone."

Carson scowled. "He's gone, but his magic herb is still here. Apparently Rodney brewed up a bit of the potion last night and drank it, knowing you'd be the only one affected."

John stared.

"We've ordered him to burn it all, of course, but there's still your little problem to clear up."

John burst out laughing. "That's crazy! Rodney knows it wouldn't make a difference."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "Cleaning his _quarters_, Colonel?"

"Huh? Oh, that was all my idea. Rodney's been too busy to get around to it. You know how hard he works."

"Oh, aye." The vowels sagged under a hefty load of sarcasm.

"Seriously, Carson, Rodney's already my friend. He doesn't need some potion to make me like him."

"Nevertheless, I'm afraid I'll have to insist ye get this shot, Colonel."

"Oh, all right, fine." John's tac vest was already hanging over the back of Rodney's desk chair. Now he shrugged off his jacket and pulled up the sleeve of his tee to bare his upper arm for the shot.

Carson swabbed the skin and gave him the shot, then frowned and laid a gloved finger a little higher on John's shoulder. "Where did ye get these bruises, Colonel?"

"Huh?" John looked down and found an arc of finger-shaped bruises on his upper arm. He remembered Rodney clutching at him while they kissed, and had to lick at lips suddenly gone dry.

"Did Rodney do that?" Carson's voice was as cold as when they had confronted Lucius in the jumper.

"No!" John returned reflexively. "It was, uh, Ronon! He was pulling me out of the way -- you know, away from that mob back in the village. Guess he doesn't know his own strength."

"Ronon's hand is quite a bit larger than mine, Colonel. But Rodney's is just about the same size." Carson spread his fingers over the bruised skin: a perfect match.

John tugged his sleeve down, trying to think. Why was Carson so angry at Rodney, anyway?

"What did he do to ye, John?"

"It was just a game we were playing."

"What sort of game?"

"You know, a little . . . rough-housing." But John could feel his face heating at the memory of that kiss.

Carson glowered at the bed; John had replaced the sheets, but the blankets were still disarrayed on top. "I think ye'd best come to the infirmary with me."

"Wait a second . . ." John looked from Carson's scowl the rumpled bed. "Rodney didn't do anything to me. He wouldn't hurt me -- you know that, Carson!"

"Don't defend him to me!" the doctor exploded, then restrained himself visibly. His voice became lower, but still furious. "What he did was inexcusable. He _used_ you, Colonel."

"But --"

"Please. Just -- come with me to the infirmary."

John gave in and followed, sighing at the thought of poor Rodney coming home to a half-made bed.

"I'm sorry for being a bit short back there," Carson said once they reached the infirmary. "You stayed with me on the mainland while I was going through the withdrawal -- I owe ye for that."

John winced. "I wasn't exactly very patient."

"You had the whole of Atlantis to worry about, and ye needed me focused to work on the problem. I understand that. Just as I understand what you're going through now."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm not going through anything, because Rodney didn't do anything to me."

Carson just patted his shoulder. "Why don't ye sit here for a bit and let that inoculation take effect. A few people experienced headache and lightheadedness as a reaction, so I'd rather have ye where we can keep an eye on ye."

"But we're supposed to have a scout mission --"

"Postponed. Ye can speak to Dr. Weir about that once the inoculation has taken effect fully."

So John leaned his head back -- he did feel a little dizzy, actually -- and waited. And slowly the events of the morning started to take on a different shape in his memory. Carson checked in at intervals, looking more somber each time as he marked the change in John's mood.

But it wasn't Rodney that John was upset with.

He could see how it had all made sense from Rodney's point of view. It was a simple prank to teach John a well-deserved lesson in humility, and it had nearly worked. Despite Rodney's momentary second thoughts, having John volunteer to clean his room and do his laundry would have been very effective revenge for all the teasing.

Then John had brought sex into the equation, and Rodney was completely thrown, because of course he'd never seen it coming.

John had sized Rodney up as a potential partner when they met in Antarctica. But it only took a few conversations to realize the man was as straight as a laser beam. Soon afterward, John had ended up with a lot more responsibility than he was ready for, and he found a good friend in the scientist to boot. It all reinforced the decision not to make a move on Rodney or ever let him get a hint that there might have been something more between them.

The only time John had seriously considered going back on his decision was before the hive ships showed up, when they all thought they had less than two weeks to live. But Rodney had been busy with his hopeless attempts to save the city -- not to mention hyped on amphetamines -- so there was no real opportunity. Then they actually survived, and John was glad that he hadn't risked their friendship on his impulses.

Now it seemed Lucius Lavin's potion might have ruined a friendship that had survived Wraith and Arcturus and six time-dilated months of abandonment issues. The truth was out and they would never be the same again.

John was feeling pretty morose by the time Carson returned. "The effects should have run their course by now. Feeling any different?"

John tilted his head carefully. "The dizziness is gone."

"I mean, d'ye feel differently about this morning? About what Rodney did?"

"Rodney didn't do anything to me," John said wearily.

"He drugged ye."

"It was a stupid prank. He didn't take advantage or do anything to hurt me. The thing with cleaning his quarters and . . . all of it, that was my idea."

Carson nodded. "I know it can seem that way."

"Because it _is_ that way!"

"And the bruises?"

"Friendly rough-housing, like I said."

Carson sighed. "Well, if that's all ye've got to say --"

"It isn't, actually." John took a deep breath to brace himself. "Is there something I should know about, um, Lucius? And you? About what he did to you?"

Carson stiffened, staring woodenly at John's knees. "What makes ye think that?"

"Because you're so suspicious of Rodney, even though you know him better than that. It's . . . well, suspicious."

Carson raised his eyes slowly, but his expression was still shuttered. "I've spoken to Dr. Heightmeyer about it, and will continue to do so. What else d'ye need to know?"

"Huh? No, wait, this isn't some kind of interrogation!" John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything if you're not comfortable with it. I was just wondering if, you know, if we should be going back to finish up what that lynch mob started."

Carson blinked, then relaxed a little and produced a shaky smile. "Ah. I thought ye were worried I couldn't do my job any longer."

"No, nothing like that! God, Carson, you figured out how to save us all when you still had shakes and cramps, and you took care of it when I was stuck in the damn brig. Of course you can do your job! I just, I was . . . look, I'm sorry. I'm really no good at this sort of thing. Should Ronon and I go beat him up for you? Or worse?"

Carson sighed and shook his head. "Lucius didn't coerce or force me -- just took me up on what I was offering."

"Which you wouldn't have offered if you hadn't been under the influence." John got that clearly enough.

"No -- well, not with him. But it was nothing new for me, Colonel. I'm not . . . traumatized, if that's what ye were thinking."

"Well, good. And, um, neither am I." John replayed what he'd said. "I mean, not that anything happened! Because it didn't. Not that I would have been traumatized, anyway, if something -- oh hell. Can I just get out of here already?"

"You're fine, Colonel. Go." Apparently Carson was as eager to end the conversation as John was. "Doctor Weir is expecting you in her office."

John groaned and headed for his next confrontation.

It took a while to convince Elizabeth that it was a simple prank, no harm done and no disciplinary action needed. At least her suspicions seemed confined to slave labor instead of something racier.

"So you don't think this incident will make it difficult for the two of you to work together on missions?" she asked him.

John shrugged casually. "Can't see why it would." Unless Rodney was so homophobic he couldn't even stand to be near John after this. But that didn't seem _very_ likely.

"Mmm-hmm." She had her arms crossed, looking at him with the sort of amused skepticism she often directed at Rodney, or at the two of them together. "And have you spoken to Rodney lately?"

"Well . . . this morning."

"I mean, since you had your inoculation."

"No, I came straight here from the infirmary."

"That's what I thought." She looked thoughtfully out the window. "All right. If you and Rodney can come to me -- together -- and assure me this has all been resolved and you're fine working with each other on missions, then I'll reschedule your gate scout for tomorrow morning."

John winced. He had a feeling Rodney was not going to be easy to find right now. "C'mon, do you really think that's necessary?"

She gave him the stern look that meant he was wheedling too hard. "Yes, John, I do. I won't have you going into potentially dangerous situations if you don't completely trust each other."

"I trust McKay!"

"I'm glad. But I'd like to see that for myself."

It occurred to John belatedly to wonder what Lucius had done to _her_ that made her think a few hours under the influence would mess up the friendship between him and McKay. Of course, he was afraid their partnership might be messed up, too, but Elizabeth couldn't know he'd outed himself so spectacularly. John sighed. "All right, I'll talk to McKay."

Elizabeth smiled tightly. "Good. And knowing how good Rodney is at hiding? You'd probably better start looking for him right now."

Rodney was a genius and too damn good at manipulating the city's functions to his own purposes, but John had a few tricks of his own. The jumpers had independent sensors that could detect life signs over a range of several miles, and the city computers could overlay those with a map. A quick comparison against the city's own biometric sensors showed exactly one life sign that showed up on the jumper display in a region where the city sensors were malfunctioning. QED.

John took a handheld scanner with him, just to be sure.

 

John found Rodney's bottom half sticking out from under a hexagonal console amid a litter of tools, crystals, and pieces of Ancient paneling -- or maybe those were something more functional; John wasn't sure. He frowned at the sprawl of Rodney's legs while he tried to think of a way to open the conversation, then looked away hastily when he realized he was staring. He was about to deliver a friendly kick when Rodney started to grope around for something on his left side, finding and rejecting a circuit probe and then a cracked crystal.

John squatted down -- not looking at Rodney's crotch -- and passed the Ancient scanner/mini-computer into Rodney's hand.

Rodney gave a grunt, which for him was a major acknowledgement of gratitude, and pulled the scanner out of sight.

John waited.

Rodney's legs spasmed and there was a muffled thump and "_Ow!_" from under the console.

John grinned.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Rodney asked, after a moment.

"Yep," said John as lightly as he could manage. "Say, isn't this whole north pier area still supposed to be off-limits?" This was the largest section that had flooded when they first arrived, and it still hadn't been fully cleared.

Rodney snorted. "Please. You think I don't know the Marines do exercises out here all the time? It's perfectly safe."

"Okaaay. And what is this . . . thing, anyway?"

Rodney slid out from underneath the console and busied himself picking up pieces, not meeting John's gaze. "I won't know for sure until I get it working," he said primly.

"But you _think_ it's --"

Rodney sighed. "According to the database, it's the central control for an array of atmospheric and oceanic sensors. Most of which are probably non-functioning by now, but we can at least try to bring them up."

"Cool." John stood up, brushing his knees off. He met Rodney's eyes for one blazing moment and looked away quickly.

Rodney turned and bent to pick up another tool.

John swallowed hard and looked further away. "So, uh, Elizabeth wants to see us in her office."

"What for?"

"To make sure we're okay with, you know. We are okay, right? I mean, I'm okay if you are."

"Yes, of course." Then Rodney cleared his throat and straightened. "I suppose I owe you -- that is, it was, it's . . . we should probably just put it down as an unfortunate incident and move on."

John studied his toes. "Unfortunate, right." He'd been nursing this thing for the better part of three years, and now it was _unfortunately_ out in the open.

"I mean, that is to say, with no intention of, of any kind of harm --"

"Of course not!" John protested, glancing up. But Rodney was looking off to the side, chin raised determinedly.

"-- things may have gotten -- may have been said or done -- it got a little out of hand," Rodney said.

"Right." John looked down again.

Rodney's tone went brisk. "But it's all done with now, and it won't be repeated."

John clamped his lips together.

"So, best just to forget it ever happened." Rodney was looking artificially cheerful and genuinely desperate in the corner of John's vision.

Cheerful. John could try for cheerful. "Are you calling a do-over?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine, if you want to be a five-year-old about it."

The tightness in John's neck eased a little. "Five was a good year for me."

"Yes, and it's worked for you for what, over three decades?"

John smiled for real, retrieving the last of Rodney's tools from the console. "Okay, do-over. 'Morning, Rodney. Real bagels today, mmm.'"

Rodney snorted and lifted his laptop, heading for the door. "'With real Athosian yak butter, mmm.' Do you want to repeat the whole conversation about hyperspace?"

"No, I think I remember that part okay." John frowned thoughtfully. In fact, he remembered the impromptu lecture nearly word for word. Maybe Lucius's potion had other uses -- or would, if it didn't make the victims want to curl up and die of embarrassment.

John should be grateful Rodney wanted to forget it all instead of making him feel worse with snide remarks about Catwoman. The problem was that John didn't really want to forget it; he wanted to go back to where they had left off and take it from there.

"How did you find me out here, anyway?" Rodney asked as they stepped out onto the sunny pier.

"Come on, Rodney, you have to let me keep _some_ secrets," John wheedled. Then he felt his face heat and fell back a step so Rodney wouldn't see.

They made it to the transporter in the next building with only a little more strained banter and about three extra feet of space between them. It wasn't quite John had wanted, but he'd take it and be glad he hadn't ruined everything.

He could work with this, John told himself firmly. It was a lot better than it might have been. With a good hard workout in the evening and a few pages of War and Peace, he might even get to sleep tonight.

No point in wishing for more than that.


End file.
